


Dherial

by o_t_h



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Assassination, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Gen, Monks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10053962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_t_h/pseuds/o_t_h
Summary: Oneshot for a Warlock3/Monk6 character I made in D&D 5e





	

**Author's Note:**

> NB: Like in LOTR, "DH" makes a "TH" sound, like Galadhrim, and indeed Dherial

In the dead of night, in Calimport, a figure walked through the streets. This was not unusual, in fact there were many figures in the street that night. Calimport had a bustling nightlife and many of the rich inhabitants of the metropolitan city were wandering from bar to bar, collecting women and leaving behind tall tales of adventures. But this figure was not heading to a bar. Dherial Do’Lerith was at work tonight. The dark elf - and he was indeed incredibly dark, with his black skin almost indistinguishable from his black headscarf and tunic - looked just like any other noble walking the streets, but tonight he would murder someone. 

Without checking his step, he checked the parchment map in his pocket, clocking the streets to either side and behind, and cross referencing with the buildings facing him. A T shape of roads, having just come up the upright, he looked dead ahead, and then turned left. This was the house. He saw the balcony with the guard, just as it had been described to him. A human stood on the balcony, with a heavy crossbow in his hands, and a keen eye on the streets. He didn't see Dherial slip into a side road on the left hand branch of the T. Through a little spark of magic, the parchment caught fire and crumbled to ash which he stamped into the dust and sand that carpeted the pavement. He peered around the corner. The guard was still watching the main road, not even looking in his direction. The dark elf watched the area behind the man pass from light to dark as torches flickered along the road. He waited until the darkness on the wall matched the darkness in his alleyway. Then he stepped across, appearing behind the guard in the patch of darkness. A punch to his lower back winded him, and a grapple and twist of the neck sent him to the floor. Dherial dropped his body and the guard’s to the floor and listened. No one screamed. No one had seen him. Lifting the man onto his back, he stepped across the shadows into the alleyway again, and dropped the body against the wall, along with the half empty bottle of strong wine he had brought with him. Returning to the balcony, he entered the building. 

There would be two more guards further in, but there were lanterns inside, so he would have to employ a little more magic. Stepping silently on soft leather boots, Dherial crept to the nearest door and looked in. Two guards, he was going the right way. A lantern hanging from the centre of the ceiling lit the room, too light for him to use the shadows to his advantage. Blowing a slight breeze towards the candle, he mixed magic into his breath and snuffed the candle out. As the light left the room he stepped across behind the first guard, stabbing him with his own knife as he tried to get his bearings in the darkness. The second guard charged towards the door, but Dherial cut him off and knocked him out with a punch to the throat. Casting his hand out across the room as the guard fell he cast a spell, a spell of silence. The guards head hit the floor without so much as a light tap. That was close, he should have cast the spell first. The silence would surround the assassin for about a minute if he focused, so he continued through the house. From this room he should go upstairs as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Presently he found some stairs. Next was to find the green door. The doors to the bedrooms on the upper floor were conveniently colour coded, blue, yellow, red and green. He stopped outside the door, he had some time left. He sat down and crossed his legs. Positioning his hands carefully, he focused his energy, re-centering his Ki force. He had learned this technique while in training to become a monk, before his meditations brought his attention to the mind of the Archfey. Through the Archfey he had learned many skills unknown to the other monks, and he had learned the errors of their ways. Their bodies were not meant to be temples, standing still as stone for all eternity. His body was a chariot, a great war machine, carrying his warrior spirit into the battles that life presented to him. Battles like the one that awaited him behind the green door. He stood up again, recalling the spells he had prepared that morning from his black-paged spellbook, and noting in his head the magical energies he had already expended. 

Despite his meditative calm, Dherial’s body flooded with adrenaline the moment the door opened. He pushed the handle only to find no resistance at all, and he fell forward. Not into a room, but into nothingness. A planar gate! How had he not sensed it. This must be the work of a powerful mage to hide a portal to another dimension behind a single barrier of wood. Suddenly the nothingness gave way to a stone chamber. All Dherial saw before the ground rushed up to meet him was the stone walls surrounding him. He dropped into a roll instinctively, and swept his arm out and to the side, creating illusionary clones of himself, which ran in all directions as he ran towards the wall to take in the space. It was a large room, far too large to fit even inside the whole house. The walls went straight up and vanished into darkness before the ceiling came into view. The sound of breaking glass indicated to Dherial that his illusions were being broken. His eyes darted to where the sound came from and he saw a black shape darting between each clone, shattering them with wide claw-swipes. Within moments all the clones were gone, and the vaguely humanoid blackness came to rest, staring directly at Dherial. Instinct took over and the dark elf cast a wall of smoke in front of him, rolling to the side and materialising the Archfey’s gift to him in his hand; a bejewelled shortsword, with twisting vines of mithril entangling the long thin steel blade. This was the Sublime Tempest, as some called it, the goblins of the north called it the Baatorian Tyrant after their word for Dherial’s kind. Others knew it as the Drakepeircer, having seen Dherial slay the great drake Nemoth with it. Dherial just called it his gift. 

The smoke dispersed and the two dark forms faced each other across the room. Dherial’s enemy appeared to have no weapons, only darker patches of darkness at the end of its arms, like claws. The assassin focused on a point in front of him, and struck out with his fist. His punch seemed to strike solid stone and a ball of energy seemed to be produced from the impact. The green energy crackled and shot through the air towards the shadow creature. Dherial used the ranged attack as cover while he rushed forwards, bringing his sword up and across as he ran past the creature. The blade cut harmlessly through the corporeal shadow, and the creature turned to meet Dherial as he spun, steadying himself on the floor with his off hand. 

Now the creature came in to attack the assassin. Dherial was sure he had heard of creatures like this, made of pure shadow energy, the same energy that he used to travel through dark places and appear invisible in shadows, but concentrated into a being of pure energy. He needed to buy some time to work out how to defeat it, as his sword was clearly ineffective. Why this thing wanted to kill him could be worked out later, but as long as it seemed to fight back, the assassin would match that sentiment. His first challenge would be to counter an attack he couldn't parry with his sword. The shadow demon rushed forwards to meet him, unfazed by Dherial’s attack, and swiped at his face with a dark claw. The assassin just managed to duck under the attack, and roll forwards to bring himself behind the creature again. Letting his eyes open to the wider spectrum of light, he saw the world by its heat rather than colour. In this new light, he saw nothing but a single speck of light where the shadow demon stood. Returning to the visible spectrum he noted where in the vaguely human form the speck sat, and performed and impressive cartwheel backwards to gain some space on the creature, before releasing another arc of crackling green energy into the centre mass of the creature. It couldn't react this time, and the magic struck it directly where Dherial had seen the speck of heat. The creature was knocked back, and it lay on the floor going faded at the edges. The assassin knew it was far from dead, but this gave him the chance he needed. He knelt, laying his sword in front of him. He focused his energy on the ever present mind of the Archfey, the architect of all natural things. What could be more natural than light and shadow. Dherial was so used to working in darkness that he had almost forgotten what true light was like, but he would have to use it now, as his shadow could not blot out the darker shadow of the demon. His sword glowed, gently, as he petitioned the Archfey for the power of light to strike the demon down. The light grew brighter, intensifying as the Archfey became aware of Dherial and decided to answer his call after so many years. The shape of the sword became indistinct and it became a simple shape of blinding light. The demon had recovered now and was coagulating back into a standing form. It started a run towards Dherial, gaining speed and bearing down on the dark elf with deadly intent. Its claws grew darker and longer, as it prepared for the killing blow. 

The demon struck empty air, as the light of the Archfey and Dherial himself both vanished. It didn't stumble, but looked around, confused for the first time. Suddenly a light like the midday sun filled the room, as Dherial dropped from a point high in the air, which had been shrouded in darkness, darkness which he could step into. He raised the sword over his shoulder as he fell, and struck like lightening, the pure white blade pinning the shadow demon to the stone floor as Dherial landed next to it. The blade bisected the creatures warm central point and the shadows that made it up blew away like smoke. 

The dark elf pulled the sword from the floor, and inspected its new form. A shorter, straighter blade of pure white metal, with a large crystal set in the hilt, which roiled and turned with smoke. He supposed light and shade worked best together. All that was left of the demon was a key, on an iron chain. He picked up the key and was instantly back in the corridor of the house in Calimport. He dismissed his weapon, and made a note to think of a new name for it, having learned the power of a swords reputation on his journeys in the north. He moved back through the house, stepped out into the alleyway again, and in a few seconds moved across several rooftops back to the inn where he had a room. Opening his own magically sealed window, he fell onto his bed and pulled off his headscarf, letting his bright red hair flow over his pillow. He thought of his night's work, and remembered to pay a visit to his whistleblower and question him about his dangerously flawed information regarding his mark. He must be more careful on his next job. 

It was at this moment that the name for his sword became clear to him. He sat on the edge of the bed and summoned it back into his hand. “Due Diligence” he whispered, his raspy voice weak with little use. The letters appeared on the blade, engraved along the centre in a script that shifted on the metal, first elven, then dwarven, then common and undercommon.

For an assassin like Dherial Do’Lerith, it was important to approach situations with Due Diligence.


End file.
